The manual of peace; exhibiting the evils and remedies of war

Front matter

Google to make the world's books discoverable online.

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject

to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books

Preface

It is with unfeigned diffidence I present this work to the public. I am not ignorant of the defects in its execution ; and I commend it to the reader solely on account of the greatness of the object That wars must cease, absolutely and universally, is certain ; but they wiU cease in connection with effort. And I felt desirous to unite my labors, however feeble they might be thought to be, with that small band of philanthropists, Who have already taken the field on this subject It is already evident that their labors have not been in vain ; and the hope, based upon the most rational foundation, begins to be cherished, that wars will soon terminate. How desirable it is that every Christian, that every friend of his race, should contribute jiis eff(Ms in the furtherance of this great object!

In preparing this work, I have freely availed myself of the labors of others, and take this opportunity to acknowledge my obligations in particular to Dr. Noah Worcester, Dymond, Mr. Grimk^ Edward livingston, Thomas Hancock, and Mr. Ladd. To the gentieman last named, whose labors in the cause of peace are too well known to require any mention here, I am indebted for having my attention first called to this important subject

Thomas C. Ufham.

ROTE TO tHE StiaiEOTTPB EDITION.

Ta« <»i^iial urork embtftjo^ "1. Hie Eml$ md ilemedies of Jf^ar; % Suggestums on the Law of JSTathns; a ConMeratioM i^a Cangnu qfJMitfna.'' The two last parts, and 86vend chapters in th^ fint, on capital punish* ments, are, with the author's consent, omitted in this editioiiy (though evincinf, in our jmdgmenti eren mere research and ability than what iifer here published,) for the . purpose of bringing before a much larger number of readen the poitioas most faxqwrtaat to the cause of Peaoe.

Boston, 1842.

Contents

llTTBODUCTIOK, 7

Ghap. I. •— Sufferings of the Field of Battle, 16

Chap. II. — Influence of War on Domestic Life, 35

Chap. III. — Influence of War on the Morals of Soldiers, 45 Chap. IV. — Influence of W&r on National Prosperity,. . 55 Chap. V. — Influence of War on the Progress of Ciyiliza-

Chap. VI. — Influence of War upon Missions, • 77

Chap. VII. — Causes of War, 83

Chap. VIII. — Of War as examined by the Light of

Nature, 88

Chap. IX. — Of War as examined by the Old Testament, 95 Chap. X. — Of War as examined by the Principles of

the ^spel, 105

Chap. XI. — Objections drawn from the New Testament, 122

Chap. XII. — Testimony and Practice of the Primitive

Christians, ] 34

Chap. XIII. — Of War in Connection with the Millennium, 149

Chap. XIV. — Popular Objections, 154

Chap. XV. — On exercising the Office of Chaplain, .... 167 Chap. XVI. — Of War in Connection with Education,. . 172 Chap. XVII. — National Glory as connected with War, 181 Chap. XVIII. — Of the Duty of Private Christians and

Ministers, 188

Chap. XIX. — Of Non-Intercourse in Connection with

Peace, 193

Chap. XX. — Practical Efficacy of the Principles of

Peace, 199

Introduction

Peace is as old as Christianity ; but specific efforts in this cause are of recent origin. Erasmus, the father of modern literature, and the pioneer of the Reformation, wrote in its behalf with an eloquence far beyond his age; but it was not till the downfall of Napoleon, and the consequent pacification of Europe, that any effective movement was made on the subject. Near the close of 1814, Noah Worcester, the patriarch of this cause in modern times, published his Solemn Review of the Custom of War ; and the first Peace Society was organized, the next summer, in the city of New York, and followed, in less than ten months, by one in Massachusetts, another in Ohio, and another in London, — the present London Peace Society, — all without any knowledge of each other's existence. The American Peace Society, as a bond of union among the fi-iends of peace through the United States, was established in 1828 ; and kindred efforts have been made, not only in England, but in France, in Switzerland, and other parts of Christendom.

We wish the cause of Peace to be distinctly understood. It seeks only the abolition of a specific, well-defined custom, — the practice of international war, — and has nothing to do with any thing else. All the relations among men consist either in the relation of individuals to one another, in the relation of individuals to society or government, or the relation of one society or government to another ; and the cause of

Peace is restricted to this last class of relations, and aims solely at such an application of the gospel to the intercourse of nations^ as shall put an end to the practice of settling their disputes by the sword.

This view of our cause relieves it from a variety of extraneous questions. If our only province is ihe intercourse of nations, and our sole object the abolition of war between them, then have we nothing to do with capital punishments, or the strict inviolability of human life, or the question whether the gospel allows the application of physical force to the government of states, schools, and families. We go merely against war ; and war is defined by our best lexicographers to be "a contest by force between nations." It is not only a conflict unto death, but such a conflict between governments alone; and neither a parent chastising his child, nor a teacher punishing his pupil, uoT a father defending his family against the midnight assassin, nor a ruler inflicting the penalties of law upon a criminal, can properly be called war, because the parties are not nations alone, but either individuals, or individuals and government. The cause of Peace is not encumbered with such cases, but confines itself to the single purpose of abolishing war.

Now, is there no possibility of accomplishing this object ? Not a few persons of intelligent benevolence, while acknowledging and deploring the evils of war, seem to doubt whether it is possible to abolish a custom so deeply rooted in the passions of mankind, imbedded every where in the habits of society, and wrought into the texture of every government on earth.

This skepticism is one of the delusions of war, and springs from a fundamental misconception of the subject. It proceeds on the assumption, that war is a natural, necessary evil, as inevitable as a tempest or an earthquake ; an evil as directly from God, or the laws he has established, as the ravages of a plague, or the eruptions of a volcanoK; ah evil which no agency of men can either inflict or avert! War without minds to will it, or hands to wage it ! We cann6t well conceive a grosset mistake, or a plainer contradiction in terms. War is a conflict between men ; and, if they are not mere machines, it must be their voluntary act. It is just as subject as duelling, the i^ave trade, or any other custom, to the will of men ; it exists solely because they choose it; ils continuance depends entirely on their choice ; and whenever we can so far change that choice as to make them resolve on discarding the war-policy, it must of necessity confie to an end at once and forever.

Is such a change impossible? No more than a multitude of similar changes that have already been wrought in the sentiments, habits, and customs of mankind. There is nothing in their war-passions, nothing in the structure of society or government^ nothing in the nature, the long continuance, or deep inveteracy of this custom, nothing in all the influences that have been for ages accumulating over the whole earth for its support, to forbid the hope of its entire, perpetual abolition.

Look at the power of the gospel. It is God's sovereign remedy for dl the moral maladies of our world ; and, when rightly applied, it will, with his blessing, triumph sooner or later over the mightiest and most inveterate forms of error, sin, and misery. So it has done ; so it will yet do. * Without sword or spear, with no diadem or purple, with no purse or scrip, it started from the cross upon the godlike enterprise of reforming a world ; and paganism, with its legion of errors and sins, vanished before it. Trace its progress, and you will find it abolishing slavery and gladiatorial shows in the Roman empire, and subsequently putting an c^nd to feudal and private wars, to knight-errantry, and witchcraft, and judicial combats.

10 INT&ODUCTION.

and trial by ordeal^ and a multitude of kindred prao tices. Has the gospel, then, no power to abolish war ? This very custom it has stripped of its most revolting features, and accomplished already more than half the work of its utter extinction ; and is there no possibility of its completing what it has so auspiciously begun ?

We see what the gospel can do for all men, in what it has done for some that have long discarded every species of war as unchristian. It is well known that Quakers, Moravians, and a few other sects, will take no part in any war, offensive or defensive; and just as far as such sentiments and habits prevail, war becomes, of course, impossible. True, such men might, if the God of peace would permit it, be butchered in cold blood; but there could be no war, no mutual butchery. Yet these sects are men of like passions with ourselves ; and, if they have been trained to such habits, all men could be. We are not now inquiring whether their views are correct; we merely infer from their example the possibility of educating the whole human race to an utter, everlasting abandonment of war.

But we may hope for the abolition of this custom without the general prevalence of such extreme views. Already do we see Christendom verging to such a result. Its general peace has now (1842) been preserved for more than a quarter of a century ; we find its leading cabinets disposed to settle their disputes by better means than the sword; and these substitutes bid fair to supersede the whole war-system, and introduce in its place a general and permanent policy of peace.

To such a result a vast variety of causes are now conspiring. It would require a volume to exhibit them in full detail; but it may, perhaps, suffice to know, that the best influences of the age, all the means of general improvement, are so many auxiliaries in the work of a world's pacification. The gradual, yet very perceptible change of public opinion on the subject ; — the growing influence of the people, always the chief sufferers from war, on all the governments ot the civilized world ; — the sway which moral influence is every where gaining in the intercourse of individuals and nations ; — r the power of the press, the pulpit, and the school, each the natural ally of peace; — the progress of liberty and political reform, requiring peace for their ultimate success ; — the spirit of fi-ee inquiry, and the diffusion of intelligence, on all subjects ; — the disposition to scrutinize ' with severity old usages, institutions, and opinions ; — the countless improvements which philanthropy is every where making in the character and condition of mankind; — the diminished respect now felt for men of blood, and the increasing reluctance to regard the wholesale butchers of mankind as proper objects of gratitude or admiration ; — the pacific tendencies of literature, science, and all the arts that minister to individual happiness, or national prosperity; — the wide extension of commerce, and the consequent interlinking, over the globe, of interests which war must destroy or endanger; — the transfer of international competition from the field of battle to those departments of peaceful industry and skill by which wealth, comfort, and refinement are procured; — the more frequent, more extended intercourse of Christians tind learned men in different parts of the earth; — the new and effective instrumentalities now employed to bring the mass of minds through Christendom, especially the young, under the benign influences of the Bible, the great manual of peace ; — the progress of kindred reforms, accumulating materials, and preparing the way for this ; — the rapid spread of the gospel in pagan lands, the fuller development of its spirit in Christendom, and the more direct, more successful application of its principles to various forms of sin and misery; — the great increase of light on the suhject of war, and the obvious necessity of peace for the unembarrassed prosecution of those enterprises which are now tasking the energies of patriots, philanthropists, and Christians ; — all these, and many other causes, are fast conspiring to draw all civilized nations into a settled, permanent policy of peace.

The steady, omnipresent operation of such causes, war cannot withstand forever. The world is becoming too wise and too good to tolerate much longer a custom so foolish and so wicked. It is a libel on the age, a withering sarcasm upon its civilization and Christianity. Its doom is sealed ; it must perish sooner or later ; and we have only to inquire how soon, by what means, and in what way, this foul and terrible scourge can be brought to an end.

War is driven to its last intrcnchment. No decent man now attempts to justify it, except as a dire necessity ; but even this stale plea cannot suffice long, for there is, in truth, no more need of it than there is of the slave trade, or any other abomination. Nations could, if they would, adjust all their difficulties M'ithout war, as well as individuals among us can theirs without duels. The only necessity there is for it, comes from the wrong choice of men ; and, if every Christian community were trained to regard it as we do the kindred practice of duelling, it would soon be put under the ban of the civilized world, and its place supplied by substitutes far better than the sword, for all purposes of protection and redress.

We cannot now expatiate on these substitutes. There is negotiation, or amicable agreement between the parties without foreign aid ; the best of all methods, so long as the parties keep cool enough to use it aright , and sufficient, in a correct state of public opinion, to obviate nearly every danger of war. There is arbitration, or voluntary reference to a third party; an expedient adopted when the parties are unable to adjttst their own difficulties, or prefer the decisicm of an umpire mutually choseu. There is also mediation; a resort when governments in anger withdraw from official intercourse, and a third power, friendly to both, interposes with the offer of its services as medi^ ator I a new expedient, hitherto successful in almost every case, and full of promise for the future peace of Christendom. Here are substitutes enough to ob« viate all necessity for war ; and, if rightly used, they will eventually supersede the whole custom.

But the substance of these principles we would imbody in a permanent system, that shall be to nations what our codes and courts of law are to individuals. We wish nations to unite, as individuals have, in settling, by a well-defined code of international law, their reciprocal rights and obligations ; and then in estab« lishing a common tribunal, like a bench of judges, or a board of arbiters, to interpret that law, and adjust all difficulties among the brotherhood of nations.

Here is a synopsis of the plan ; and for its execution, there must be, first, a congress or convention of nations^ to settle, as far as possible, the principles of international law; and, next, a court of nations, separate from the former, and created by it, but composed of members selected by the governments associated, to apply that law, and adjudicate whatever cases might be referred to them. The conventicm would correspond to our legislature, but with this difference, that it would have power, like {^enipotentiaries ki negotiating a treaty, only to recommend the principles of international law, to be ratified or rejected by their respective governments. The code thus formed would be a collection of treaties, and have the binding force of compact and agreement between the parties. The court would resemble ova judiciary, except that no party would be obliged, without their own choice, to appeal to its authority, or to abide by its decisions. It would have no fleets or armies to enforce its decrees, but would rely for this purpose solely on public opinion, or the good sense of the parties, and the influence of its own reputation for integrity and wisdom.

We cannot now dwell on the details of this scheme, nor attempt the slightest argument in its favor. Its object and its fundamental principles commend themselves to every candid, reflecting mind ; and, if the subject were brought fully before all Christendom, there would doubtless be found a strong desire among the mass of the people to have the experiment tried with as little delay as possible.

Such a reform, however, will not come of itself, nor be the work of a day. Means must be used; and these will require, for a series of years, the union of multitudes in all parts of Christendom. Rulers alone can do the thing ; but only those in popular governments can be expected to take hold of such a project in earnest. Nor will such rulers move except at the call of the people ; and the people, before they will demand it in tones not to be disregarded, must be more enlightened on the subject. There must be, for this purpose, combined, vigorous, persevering efibrts. The great engines of influence upon the popular mind must be set and kept at work. The pulpit must speak ; the press must speak ; instructors in our seminaries of learning, from the highest to the lowest, must speak ; teachers in Sabbath schools, and pious parents around their firesides, must speak ; every church, every Christian, every friend of God or man, high and low, old and young, male and female, must dl cooperate to recast public opinion in the mould of peace, to fill the mass of minds through Christendom with deep, undying abhorrence of war, and rouse them to demand with one voice some substitute that shall ere long supersede its atrocities and horrors forever.

To this object the following pages are a noble and eloquent contribution from one of the first writers of the age. Parts of the original work, not essential to

INTRODOOnON. 15

the cause of peace, hare been omittecl, with the author's consent, in the hope of bringing it within the reach of a larger number of readers; but enough still remains to furnish, in a small compass, probably the best general view of the subject that can be found in the English or any other language.

G. C. B.

Boston, 1842.

CHA!»TER FIRST.

SVFyXRINGS OF THE FIELD OF BATTLE.

We commence with an examination of some of the evils of war. In respect to this almost inexhaustible topic, we wish to premise to the reader, that we shall attempt to give only a mere glimpse of it. So numerous are the other topics on which we shall find it proper and important to touch in the course of this work, it ifill not be in our power, for this reason among others, to delay upon any single one at much length. Indeed, if it were otherwise, if we had time enough, and space enough, we should probably find, on making the experiment, that a full and perfect exhibition of the evils of war is, from their very intensity and the greatness of their number, wholly beyond our power. And yet we cannot but hope that the statements which will be made, although necessarily brief, will leave such impressions upon the mind of the reader^ as will be favorable to the great object we have in view, — the promotion of universal peace.

In the first place, let us consider, for a moment, the objects which are presented to our notice on the field of battle ; let us place ourselves on some conspicuous spot, in the neighborhood of the place of contest, where we may not only distinctly see what is going on, but may be at liberty to indulge those reflections which such a scene and situation are calculated to inspire. The first thing that arrests our attention is the sudden discovery of large masses of men rapidly assembling together ; and, as we perceive that they bear the same image, and know that they

SUFFERINGS OF THE FIELD OF BATTLE. 17

come from the hand of the same Creator, we naturally conclude, on every principle of reason and humanity, that they are assembling for no other than just and amicable purposes. But we soon discover, to our great surprise, that their meeting and salutations, so far from being of a consultative and friendly character, are violent and threatening, and take place with every demonstration of hostility, amid the clash of swords and the bristling of bayonets. But man, even when placed in this lamentable position of crime and cruelty, discovers traits of character which show that he was formed for better things, — great sagacity, promptness in the moment of peril, activity, courage, indomitable perseverance. These traits of character might be applied for great good ; but here they are applied, and too dreadfully applied, in accelerating the work of destruction, — to smite down the opposing combatant, to tear open the fountains of life, to roll onward the dreadful wave of war. In a few moments after these vast masses are met together, we hear the clash of swords, the roar of cannon, the noise and the confusion, the shout of victory, the groans of the wounded and the dying ; but nothing, except some shadowy outlines, is seen. After a while, the smoke rolls slowly away, and, in the light of the glaring and sickly sun, we behold the whole plain covered with human bodies, multitudes of them dead, and others in a state of intense suffering from their wounds ; and, if we undertake to count them, the enumeration only increases that overwhelming sensation which the mere glance had tended to inspire: — on the field of Austerlitz, twenty thousand; on the field of Bautzen, twenty-five thousand; at Dresden^ thirty thousand; at Waterloo, forty thousand ; at Eylau, fifty thousand ; at Borodino, eighty thousand.

We do not go back to the dreadful scenes of antiquity ; to the days of the Alexanders, and the Han-

2»

18 BUFFBRIMGS OF THE

Bibals, and the Caesars ; to the battle-fields of CanniB and Philippi. But look merely at what has taken place in our own days, and, as it were, under our own eyes, and, what renders it still more surprising, amid the light of civilization, and under the blaze of the gospel. As we cast our eyes over the field of battle, covered with such a multitude of dead and wounded persons, we cannot but be filled with astonishment and horror, eepeeially when we remember that the combatants are all the dependent and favored children of that great Being who not only made them, but required them to love one another. Certain it is, that the spectator, as he looks upon the field of battle, has emotions of unmingled surprise and consternation ; he feels that a dread fill crime has been committed, the guilt of which rests somewhere ; *he is stunned and amazed, and hardly kn«ws what character to attach to man, who can permit himself to be engaged in such transactions ; and yet it cannot be doubted that the efiect of the scene which is before him is lessened by its own dimensions — is diminished by its very vastness. The man who is thinking of the sufferings of forty or fifty thousands can have no very distinct conceptions of the sufferings of a particular individual in that vast number. If he could take a fiill and distinct view of the sufferings of each one in that great multitude, — if he could see the tears and the agonies in each particular case, and, by some process of intellectud and sentient arithmetic, could biding them all into one sum, and place them all before the mind at once, — what a vast amount ! what unparalleled wretchedness ! 'with what torture would it fill the soul 1 But this cannot be : the structure of the human mind is such as not to admit of it. And ft is for this reason that we will turn away a moment from the contemplation of the scene in its totality, in its mere general features, for the purpose of seeing it in its parts, its firagments, its particular instances.

FIELD OF BATTLB. lA

There was a certain Captaip Cooke, in the British army at the battle of New Orleans, who has recently given to the public some interesting incidents, which took place under his own eye in that memorable engagement. And it is incidents, the facts in which individuals are concerned, the insulated details of a battle, and not the whole, assimilated and contem* plated in one broad mass, which are to give as the precisely true conception of the miseries usually en« dured on such occasions. On the morning of the eighth of January, the officer above referred to saw three companies of soldiers, about two hundred and forty in number, advancing on the high road to New Orleans, for the purpose of attacking what was called the Crescent Battery. Among other persons, he saw liieutenant Duncan Campbell, with whom he seems to have been particularly acquainted, and asked him where he was going. The lieutenant replied that he did not know. <<Then," said Captain Cooke, ** you have got into what I call a good thing : the far-famed American battery is in front, at a short range ; and, on the left, this spot is flanked, at eight hundred yards, by their batteries on the opposite side of the river.'' At this piece of information; the lieutenant laughed heartily. Captain Cooke advised him to take off his blue pelisse coat, in order to be like the rest of the men ; but he promptly refused, — uttering, at the same time, some expressions of defiance against the Americans, — and, having embraced the captain, went onward. He was a young officer, of twenty years of age, of a fine personal appearance, and had fought in many bloody encounters in France and Spain. But what was the fhte which war had reserved for one so young, so interesting in appearance, and towards whom, undoubtedly, the affections of many friends in a distant land were fondly directs ed ? " Near the close of the battle, Lieutenant Duncan Campbell," says the writer, *' was seen, to our

20 8UFPERIN08 OF TBK

left, running about in circles, first staggering one way, then another, and at length he fell on the sod, helplessly, upon his face, and again tumbled; and when he was picked up, he was found to be blind, from the effects of grape shot, that had torn open his forehead, given him a slight wound in the leg, and had also ripped the scabbard from his side, and knocked the cap from his head. While being borne insensible to the rear, he still clinched the hilt of his sword with a convulsive grasp, the blade thereof being broken off, close at the hilt, with grape shot; and, in a state of delirium and suffering, he lived for a few days.'' Here is an incident which may be called a common one : he died much as any other soldier on the field of battle may be supposed to die. But this is the cause of the difference in our feelings : we single him out from the rest of the multitude ; we do not mingle, and confound, and lose sight of his suffering in the vague and indefinite idea of suffering in the mass ; and while we are too often unmoved, in consequence of our inability to combine a particular and a general view, by the general statement of thoussmds having suffered, we at once exclaim, when our eye is fixed on a single case, like the one before us, " What a shocking death is this ! What barbarity there is in war ! What insanity in men, that they should butcher and tear to pieces one another ! " ** For five hours,'' continues the narrative of this ofiicer, ** the enemy plied us with grape and round shot. Some of the wounded, lying in the mud, or on the wet gi;ass, managed to crawl away ; but, every now and then, some unfortunate man was lifted off the ground by round shot, and lay killed or mangled. During the tedious hours we remained in front, it was necessary to lie on the ground, to cover ourselves from the projectiles. An officer of our regiment was in a reclining posture, when grape shot passed through both his knees : at first he sunk back faint-